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monkee5753
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Name: Mandy
Birthday: 3/28/1985
Gender: Female
Interests: disney, coloring books, jane austen, prawn sandwiches, the newsies, mashed potatoes, puzzles, the monkees, chocolate, lord of the rings, caution tape, smoothies, cooking, adventures, law and order (especially jack)
Expertise: rainstorms and the puddles that follow
Industry: Hospitality
Message: message me
AIM:  monkee5753
Member Since:
7/26/2002
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| I went to England last fall. I came back and lived with a bunch of pretty cool freshmen women in Naugle and worked with a fabulous group of fellow RAs. I graduated from college. I went to Florida with the family, then moved to Houghton, NY and started a job as an admission counselor at the college here. I saw the Pacific Ocean for the first time. I moved into my very first apartment. I spent two weeks in Ecuador helping to build the foundation of an addition to a Compassion International student center. I've changed and I've started to understand just how blessed I am. So does this mean I'm a grown-up? Don't answer that. | | |
| My favorite machine in this office is the shredder. I've piled
bags and bags of thin strips of used-to-be-confidential-files in the
hallway. It makes me feel...mighty, the finality of it.
The shredder also affords me time to think about important
things. Like this little conversation I had with myself today
between the academic probation records and the RD candidate scores:
Hmm isn't it interesting that when someone goes
missing--is kidnapped, murdered, whatever--all the news stations tend
to use the same picture of the missing person over and over
again? For instance, most of us, when we think of Natalee
Holloway, the girl who disappeared in the Caribbean last summer...most
of us will picture the same face, outfit, smile, because that's the
only one anyone saw. That makes the victim seem very one
dimensional.
I wonder who picks the picture? The parents, I
guess. Do the friends have input? I hope the friends have
input. I'd want my friends to have input. Oh goodness....if
my mom picked the picture......*literally, a moment of panic* I need to
pick the picture now! She won't know how I want to be portrayed
to the world in the case of my kidnapping...she'll probably pick
something where my hair is pulled back and my face is red and blotchy
and my eyes are disproportionate. My friends won't recognize me,
no one will look for me, I'll be lost forever! Mental note:
choose a kidnapping picture and give to mom, preferably before trip to
NYC.
Yes, I am that shallow.
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| haven't done this in a while. it's intimidating.
my mom called. we sold the house. well, almost.
unofficially. to a nice italian man and his family. mixed
feelings, but God is good and stress levels around 664 lynes rd. have
decreased significantly.
my brother called. he won $100 in a safe driving competition. go reid.
my eyes hurt.
i got accepted to england. they want me (i thought about adding a
'by jove' to the end of that, but thought better of it. i'll save
my insanely out-of-place britishisms for the actual country. if
you're gonna offend someone, it might as well be the natives.).
i almost have a job for the summer. but it's not solidified, so i'd better not say more.
that's all i've got.
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| it snowed and i missed it. i went into the lounge, the room with
huge windows on like, 3 sides and i still missed it. sad, really.
i did not,
however, miss the blooming of my daffodils this week. nor did i
miss the startling contrast between the powder outside my window and
the sunny blossoms decorating the sill.
i get daffodils and dandelions confused. not the actual flower,
just the words. i even wrote "dandelion" on a paper for my
romantic lit class by accident. dr. downing reminded me with a
big "NO!!" that wordsworth hadn't admired the dancing dandelions.
i'll attribute my confusion to my childhood--like all good people who
have been to one-too-many counseling sessions. when i was little,
someone asked me what my favorite flower was, and i responded,
"Dandelions," meaning of course the actual plant by that name. i
remember that we were in a group, and that i was the youngest.
the other kids, who were probably about 6 and much wiser in the ways of
the world, laughed heartily at me and told me that my favorite flower
was, in fact, not a flower, but a weed. i'm sure i cried.
what didn't we cry about when we were 4?
now that i'm smarter and better at avoiding humiliation (ha....even i'm
not sure if that was sarcastic), i've changed my favorite flower to the
daffodil (although i typed dandelion first). but my, how
our childhood shapes us. don't laugh at a kid. it scars.
somehow that became didactic. oops.
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| i spent my j-term break wisely: i learned how to play a song on the guitar. it goes like this--
GGGGGGGGG *pause* CCCCCCCCC *long pause* DDDDD *sigh of frustration*
EEE Eminor Eminor Eminor *very short pause* A A Aminor Aminor A *long
pause with a hint of a smile as i return to the chorus*
GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG
sorry to everyone within hearing. when i'm famous, i'll be sure to mention you in the fine print of the cd jacket.
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